


Phantasm

by TheNarcolepticOne



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Day 2: Colors, Day 5: Spooky, Gen, Halloween, Spooky, aphfallfandomweek2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-11
Updated: 2018-10-11
Packaged: 2019-07-29 13:50:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16265510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheNarcolepticOne/pseuds/TheNarcolepticOne
Summary: Lovino was the relative in the family that no one particularly liked to visit. And wasn’t because he was crude: this was a misconception developed from the in-laws of the family who wanted to steal some of the family’s rich heritage. Rather, Lovino was just a different kind of Vargas. Or at least, Feliciano liked to think that his brother was.





	Phantasm

**Author's Note:**

> I... put two concepts into one story again --  
> I'm SORRY it's just very addicting to try and put them all together because it forces me to try and creatively shove them together. I hope it's not too clunky though... I've not actually posted any stories online with Feliciano or Lovino. Not yet anyway.  
> It's not meant to be anything hard to look into, actually, so don't look too hard into this story. 
> 
> For the aphfallfandomweek2018

Lovino was the relative in the family that no one particularly liked to visit. And wasn’t because he was crude: this was a misconception developed from the in-laws of the family who wanted to steal some of the family’s rich heritage. Rather, Lovino was just a different kind of Vargas. Or at least, Feliciano liked to think that his brother was.

Lovino liked to spend a lot of his days alone too and occupied the spare room of Feliciano’s paint studio when he came back from a long day from working at the pastry shop. Feliciano had given the space to him out of sympathy, as no one else in his family seemed to put an effort into knowing his brother beyond just his strange behaviors. Except for him and his Grandfather of course, but Romulus had passed away some time ago, leaving only Feliciano to be the sole caretaker of his brother.

Calloused hands and flour dusted fingers from folding dough and wheat did nothing to dissuade Lovino from coming over in the evenings to continue his work in his project room. Lovino always mentioned finishing the same painting that he started two months ago and had never let Feliciano see it since he bought his brother the easel.

Now, Lovino was one of the best watercolor artists that Feliciano had ever know. It deviated a lot with his own style, but not in a bad way. Feliciano often liked the crispness of oil-based paints in its raw form upon a canvas while Lovino once told him that he enjoyed the medium of water because he felt the transparency of the paint reflects a sort of ‘ambiguity’. He liked an image of a color that wasn’t quite solid and wasn’t too minimalist either, which made Feliciano very empathetic to his art pieces most of the time.

Lovino was a schizophrenic, part-time freelance artist.

It wasn’t a very pretty title, but it was because of this stigma that Lovino often told people of his condition first, as a warning, before accepting any commissions from any eager client. Lovino didn’t enjoy the idea of people giving him sympathy and _especially_ disliked being compared to van Gogh in any way, shape or form.

Rather, he preferred patrons that were honest with him. And it was a trait that Feliciano envied; having interactions between others without that sense of superficiality to it.

Lovino was more grounded in the realities of people more than Feliciano ever was. And that, alone, was the reason why Feliciano loved his brother dearly. And the same reason why he had even given him the room in the first place.

Though, just because Lovino got commissions didn’t mean that he received a lot of them. The man would often burst into Feliciano’s small business building without a word and retreat his secret sanctuary in silence. But Feliciano never minded it; his brother’s business was his own.

That was, until one day Feliciano heard his brother talking alone inside of his room one night after washing all of his brushes. Feliciano had planned to leave early, as he had a scheduled 8:30 AM appointment with his next model soon. But the sounds of his brother speaking was what drawn him to stop and listen.

“Hang on,” Lovino was heard groaning on the other side of the door. “I’ll finish this part soon. Stop giving me that look, won’t you? It’s intimidating, and you’ll make me rush it.”

Feliciano quietly set his used brushes from earlier that day into a bucket nearby. And, watching his feet to ensure he did not step on anything, Feliciano leaned against the thin white door to eavesdrop.

“Yes, Toni. I know you like red. But I’ve already painted enough leaves around you. Any more of them and I’m sure you’ll look like you’re in front of a volcano!”

Feliciano bit his lip. A quick suspicion made Feliciano assume that Lovino snuck a male model into the room. But looking at the base of the door, he saw some movement of shadows.

But he could not distinguish if this was his brother’s movements or not.

“There. See?” Lovino murmured. “It was the green that was missing. Not the red. Red wouldn’t make much sense to add on to you. It’s like wearing a red shirt, red pants, red shoes and red socks: it _doesn’t match_.”

Feliciano moved away from the door now, perhaps realizing that Lovino wasn’t quite... himself. Lovino often had episodes of these, but ever since he had been on medication, he hadn’t fallen into the habit of babbling to himself until now. 

But he didn’t want to be too straightforward with Lovino either. Pointing out his strange behavior would only strain their relationship as his only caring family relative and the last thing Feliciano wanted to do was to make his brother annoyed with him because wasn’t caring enough to shut up appropriately.

Choosing instead to promptly ignore the conversation in the other room, Feliciano began to pack his things, set his coat on and retreat home to sleep. He and Lovino did not live in the same places, so he was never really sure about what time his brother went home.

But as Feliciano attempted to sleep, he couldn’t help but start to wonder about Lovino again. The way he talked behind that door and the emotion in Lovino’s voice that really almost sounded like he was speaking to his painting... the curiosity had burrowed itself into Feliciano’s brain enough to the point of making him unable to sleep. And months of secrecy on Lovino’s end was enough to draw Feliciano back into his car and drive right back to the studio.

It was just quarter past two in the morning when Feliciano arrived, fall air breezing through his hair. His keys clinked as he opened the door, and he turned the lights on, immediately heading for the forbidden room.

He swung the door open gently, turning on the lights.

The room was an absolute chaotic mess as if someone had ransacked the place. It scared Feliciano a minute to think that the perpetrator would be somewhere nearby, but Feliciano did a quick sweep around the perimeter of the room.

No one.

The only object that was the most preserved in the mess was an easel and canvas in the center of the room, draped by a tattered blanket.

Feliciano frowned, feeling his chest compress. He felt like was violating his brother’s trust by peeking into his personal work. It wasn’t as if he was planning to do anything bad, right? Just looking.

Feliciano took a breath, going up to the painting and removing the cloth.

It was the portrait of a man that Feliciano had never seen before. The paint that was included in the picture was layered upon each other, blending a lot more smoothly into indescribable mixes of color; the paint’s opacity made it a hard to tell the difference if the color was in between red, yellow or green. The brush strokes that framed the man’s clothing were cleverly blended with the darker colors to contour the light more to the man’s chest, rather than the shoulders and overcoat. It curved at the exact angles that highlighted the physique under the painting’s clothing, and it caused Feliciano to realize that he had been holding his breath when he finished examining it.

Lovino really did pull reality from his imagination. The only thing that made the painting appear unrealistic was the white edges of the unfinished background and unpainted pencil-etched leaves. The picture was meant to fully depict a Spaniard of the 1600’s in the middle of the fall leaves, posing right before his voyage over the Atlantic. The portrait man gazed back at Feliciano, looking soft in his features but held a sense of power behind his gaze. The eyes were a piercing green, and it made Feliciano feel like he was being watched. They also looked like they were following him when he moved around, even more, causing Feliciano to be completely unsettled by the eye movement. It was enough to make Feliciano want to _leave._

It’s then that Feliciano grabbed the cloth, pulling it over the painting’s gaze as he retreated out back to the parking lot, heart beating from almost practically sprinting out of the building. He locked the door twice for good measure and checked it before starting his car.

##

The next morning hadn’t been too unusual after that. Feliciano had fought the evening’s events out of his brain when his patron showed up; a man who looked entirely ready for his own portrait by dressing in outrageous clothing. Feliciano could deal with outrageous.

He had spent the day avoiding the room when he was doing his own work and waited patiently for his brother to return after work.

Eventually, Lovino did come through the door. But not before Feliciano stopped him. His model had long gone at that point, giving Feliciano more time to speak to him.

“ _Fratello,_ ” he called to his brother, causing Lovino to turn his head to him with tired attentiveness. “What are you painting in that room? I’ve always been meaning to ask.”

Lovino gave Feliciano an incredulous expression. But not before just sighing.  
“I’m actually almost done with it anyway. I suppose you could look at it.”

Feliciano practically jumped at this opportunity to be with his brother, dropping his palette onto a nearby table as he grabbed a towel to wipe his hands off on the way to follow Lovino back into the room.

But by the time his brother had opened the door, he felt himself freeze.

The room was practically spotless. Or at least, there wasn’t a place out of order like it had been last night. It looked as if someone had cleaned it, though Feliciano was 400% sure he had locked the door that evening and had _not_ touched anything else in the room. Especially after seeing the gaze of that frightening man under the blanket on the canvas. He couldn’t stay after that!

When Lovino uncovered the painting, Feliciano had to bite his tongue.

The man that had stared at him last night was turned _away_ from the viewer’s perspective, head turning to look back at the autumn scenery behind him. It caused Feliciano to rub his eyes, trying to understand how his brain was playing tricks on him.

He can’t have just imagined last night all on his own. Could he?

“Like it?” Lovino said, having not noticed Feliciano at all since he had also been staring at his own work and criticizing it himself. “It’s... not quite there yet. I’m missing a lot of the edges and leaves. But I think one more week would finally get this done.”

“W-Who is that?” Feliciano fought his voice to remain calm as possible, which clearly wasn’t working too well. “In the picture?”

“Someone I keep running into in my dreams,” Lovino sighed. “You know. Those dreams.”

Feliciano turned his gaze back to Lovino, who now appeared much quieter and more reserved after admitting that clause. Feliciano frowned at that. Lovino was trying to hide his hallucinations again. And fighting the urge to reveal the reason behind his own state of panic, Feliciano noticed that he began to say something else as well.

“I’m jealous, Lovino,” Feliciano replied. “I don’t think I’ve ever been able to really... do the same as you when it comes to painting in watercolor. It’s strange because it looks so real. Like it can move on its own.”

Lovino laughed at that. “You’re the only one who can see the reality of everything, Feli. I’ll admit it; sometimes I see the painting move all the time. And I think I can say that this one of my best works.” Lovino felt his smile soften when he stared at his masterpiece. “ _Antonio._ That’s what I call it. It’s a name in Spanish that means something of value and praise.”

“I... didn’t take you for the type to be researching on name meanings, Lovi.”

“Shut up. Just because the names of your pieces are long doesn’t mean that mine has to be.”

Feliciano relaxed at that. “It’s beautiful, _fratello.”_

“It’s not finished yet,” Lovino murmured. “I’ll get it done soon. But I’d like to be alone if that’s okay.”

“Of course.” Feliciano went to the door, letting him space. And with a smile, he closed the door again.

But the second the door clicked shut, Feliciano’s expression that he had been keeping up had dropped. And fear poured into his heart as he dared to open the door once more.

“Lovino?”

The room was empty, with a gust of wind blowing into the room with the faintest smell of wet grass and undergrowth.

Feliciano stared at the picture that was revealed to him.

There, amid all of the colors of the fall within the canvas, was Lovino. And next to him was the man he had seen in the piercing green eyes, smiling right at Feliciano as he had an arm around his shoulders.

Feliciano only stared for a few moments before feeling himself drawn into the room. And with a final examination, grabbed the cloth again to cover the painting up as he picked it up into his arms to take home.

**Author's Note:**

> _Posted October 11, 2018_


End file.
